A Feast of You (24 page)

“Thanks a lot.” Leave it to Beckett to notice the extra pounds I’d put on since I last saw him—that awful day almost three weeks ago when I’d been locked in my darkroom and had my phone stolen. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen Beckett in the flesh for nearly three weeks. With the exception of when he was living in Chicago and I was living in Santa Cruz, this had to be some kind of record for us. “What’s that supposed to mean, I look like me?”

“It means,” Beckett said, leading me deeper into the café, “you look healthy and beautiful and happy. You don’t have that underfed, waify look any more. Love suits you.”

I instantly forgave him. “Yes, it does. And so does William’s cooking. And Hutch’s. I’ve lost all willpower.”

“Sweetie, willpower is so fucking overrated.”

I laughed. “Yeah, I know. And they’re both really great cooks. And now this,” I waved my hand around. “Seriously, I’m doomed.”

Beckett chortled. “Want the grand tour?” he asked. He hadn’t stopped smiling since I walked in and I knew he was excited. I was so happy for him. I reminded myself to thank William, again, for recommending Beckett for the job.

“Absolutely.”

Beckett showed me the whole place. I loved the white walls, the dark, hardwood floors, and the accent of the rustic wood tables and chairs. The designer had gone for a quaint kitchen look behind the counter, with glass cabinets stocked with white mugs and plates, a farmhouse sink with vintage fixtures, and a small stainless steel refrigerator. A big chalkboard, which would display the menu and the daily specials, was on the wall behind the register. Beckett also showed me the kitchen, but it wasn’t as interesting as the front—lots of mixers and ovens and stainless steel prep tables. But Beckett would spend most of his time there, and I could tell he’d made it comfortable and homey with small touches.

“How about a latte?” he finally asked.

“Yes, please. Are you going to act as barista?”

“I’m a man of many talents, Cat.”

We headed back to the seating area, and Beckett stopped in front of an enormous chrome espresso maker. At least I thought it was an espresso maker. It looked more like a spaceship.

“Ta-da,” Beckett chimed, showcasing the coffee maker with his hands like he was on a game show. “I am pretty sure that Patisserie LeClerc will soon be making the best coffee drinks in Chicago. I had to get trained on how to use this and my entire staff will have to too.”

“Really?” Beckett was going to have a staff? I kind of assumed there would be other employees, but this was the first time it hit me that Beckett was going to be the boss. I took another look at the coffee set-up. The machine did look pretty sophisticated, but it was still just coffee, right?

Beckett pointed to the gleaming chrome ensemble again. “This, Cat, is a nearly $30,000 espresso maker,” he said, putting heavy emphasis on the dollar amount. “It’s handmade and considered the holy grail of espresso makers. The designer is some guy from Belgium. LeClerc knows him and he uses
only
these machines in all of his restaurants. And it makes fucking incredible coffee.” Beckett was smiling wickedly now.

A $30,000 coffee maker?
This I had to try. “Who am I to say no to that? Bring it on,” I grinned.

“A latte it is,” Beckett replied and got to work.

He handled it as though he’d made coffee in the Rolls Royce of espresso makers all his life. I watched as the machine whirred and steamed and the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee filled the air. God, I had missed Beckett, but it was so nice to see him here. He was really proud and seemed like he’d finally found his place, although he looked more tired than I remembered ever seeing him.

When the frothing and foaming was complete, Beckett handed me two plates and placed a beautiful chocolate cream–filled éclair on each. He carried the lattes and I followed him to a small table. While Beckett had been showing me around, Asa had come in and taken a seat by the window. Beckett had given him a bottle of water, and I watched as he sampled a cookie from a small plate in front of him. I wondered if Asa had put on a few pounds since he started accompanying me to Morrison Hotel and now to Patisserie LeClerc—everyone was feeding him non-stop too.

I sat, then took a sip of my latte. “Oh. My. God. This is phenomenal. I don’t know what it is, but it’s, it’s...” I was at a loss for words. About a latte.

Beckett’s smile grew even wider. “I told you. Fucking incredible coffee.”

“Yes, incredible,” I managed to say before taking another long, perfect sip.

Beckett got down to business. “So, tell me about the shoot today.”

I paused, considering how to discuss it without mentioning Alec. Beckett said he was okay with their break-up, but I wasn’t sure I believed that. “The shoot sucked. I missed you so much. They had me paired with this woman named Anna Feinstein. Do you know her?”

“Name sounds familiar, but I can’t place her.”

“Perpetual scowl on her face, the personality of a chair, and completely humorless. I mean, she didn’t crack a smile the whole time.”

“That
must
have sucked.”

“Well, she aced the mechanics. Her only crime was that she wasn’t you. The whole day was a slog.”

“How did the shots turn out?”

I bit into the éclair and when a little blob of the chocolate filling oozed out, flashes of William licking warm chocolate off my thighs and...elsewhere flooded my mind and I shifted in my seat.
Fuck
. I needed to stay focused, so I nodded my head appreciatively at Beckett. “The shots were fine. I got some great ones of the strawberries. Think peak of perfect ripeness, glistening with sweet juices.”

“Sexy.”

“Except every time I’d get excited, I’d look up and see Anna’s sour expression. I’d ask you to come back, but you obviously have a way better gig here.”

“You don’t need me, but if I had time, you know I’d help you.”

I sighed, wishing Beckett
could
help me. Sexing up peaches and strawberries without him wasn’t nearly fun as doing it with him. I watched as he sipped his latte. He looked great—Beckett always looked great—but he couldn’t camouflage the dark circles under his eyes.

“I know you would, and I can see you don’t have time. Are you getting any sleep at all?” The concern in my voice was genuine.

“I’m exhausted, if you want the truth. Happy but exhausted.” He took another sip of his latte. “This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, Cat. I mean, it’s been awesome, but fuck, the schedule is killing me. I can barely keep my eyes open, and I never know what time it is anymore. Promise you’ll prop me up if I fall asleep at my own party.”

“What party?” I asked.

Beckett gaped at me. “What do you mean,
what party
? The opening party!”

I shook my head in confusion. “When is it?”

“
When is it
? Cat, it’s a week from tomorrow, next Saturday. At The Webster. It’s for the bakery, the restaurant, and the hotel. It’s the launch party for all of it, and it’s going to be big. How do you not know this?”

I had no idea. From the way Beckett was reacting to my confusion, I was clearly at the very top of his guest list and I
should
have known about this. “Well, why am I just hearing about it from you now? I’ve been staying at William’s, but my phone still works.”

“I figured you already knew,” Beckett said slowly. “So you tell me—why don’t you know about it when your boyfriend is the one throwing it? Okay, not just him, the whole investment group.”

“Seriously?” I asked, wide-eyed as my heart sank a little. William hadn’t mentioned it, which didn’t make any sense at all. Yes, he’d been a bit preoccupied lately, but Beckett was my best friend.

Beckett’s eyes sharpened. “He didn’t tell you, did he? What’s with that?”

I didn’t reply and looked down at the foam that topped my latte.

“Are you guys okay? Don’t tell me there’s trouble in billionaire land.”

My face heated, and I looked up and met Beckett’s eyes. “Not trouble exactly, but William has been...distracted.” I lifted my hair off my neck, which suddenly felt warm. “He has a lot on his mind.”

“Like what? Business stuff?”

I shook my head, and Beckett leaned closer.

“What is it, Cat? Now I’m worried.”

I could never keep things from Beckett and really, I needed to tell somebody what was going on, or at least most it. So I took a deep breath and said, “Well, for starters, William just found out that the wreckage in Alaska wasn’t from his parents’ plane and that crushed him.”

I filled Beckett in on the details of the analysis of the plane wreckage, updated him on the threats, including my dinner plate of bloody organs at The Peabody Club, on the extortion situation and the crazy increased security, and topped it all off by sharing that William was going to inherit a few more billions on his birthday in September—billions he didn’t want. And I added that his cousin Zoe was a total bitch and seemed to hate me for no reason.

We’d finished our coffee and our éclairs by the time I was done. Beckett shook his head. “Jesus, Cat. It’s like
Scandal
and
Revenge
had a baby, and it’s William’s life—and yours by default. I actually feel really bad for the guy, and for you. You have a secret admirer and not the good kind.” He glanced at Asa, who was pretending to ignore us. “Sorry. I’m not trying to be funny.”

I let out a deep sigh. “I know. It’s over-the-top drama and not what I was expecting at all. I thought it was bad after Jace died, but this is worse, actually.”

Beckett stared at me. He’d seen me through that dark time after the car accident that had claimed Jace’s life. I had walked away from the scene while Jace—a handsome favorite on the pro surfing circuit with several big endorsement deals and a huge, mostly female, fan following—hadn’t. Even though we’d been hit dead-on by a very drunk driver, once it had come out that I had been behind the wheel with an expired license and alcohol in my system—not enough to be impaired but some nonetheless—things had gotten bad. Lots of Jace’s fans had thought it should have been me that had died that night, not Jace, and they’d found creative ways to tell me. The cyber-bullying had gotten serious enough that I’d had to hire an internet security company to remove as many online mentions of me as they could. It had been a horrible, horrible time and I knew sometimes Beckett and I both thought it was a miracle that I’d survived it at all.

“So let’s talk about something else,” I said with forced gaiety. “Who are you bringing to the party?”

Beckett brightened at the mention of the party. “Who am I
not
bringing? I’ve invited everybody, and you should too. Tell Allison and Dana to come. And Hutch. Oh my God, Cat. I would die if Hutch Morrison graced me with his presence. Please make him come.”

“I’ll try. But who are you taking?”

He shrugged. “I’ll go solo.”

“Why? You should bring a date.”

“Hello? I just broke up with someone. I don’t feel like ever dating again right now. Plus, I’ll be awful company. I’ll be asleep by nine and muttering about fondant.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fabulous, Beckett. You always are.” I paused and then went for it. “When are you going to tell me what really happened with Alec? I saw him at the shoot this morning, and he’s not talking either.”

“How did he look?”

“Really cute, as always.”

“Did he like the shots?” Beckett asked, and I didn’t fail to notice he was switching topics. Okay, so he didn’t want to talk about Alec right now. I could understand that. He had a lot going on. He’d talk when he was ready.

“He said he did.”

“Then he did. You’re a fantastic photographer, Cat.”

“Thanks. No more compliments, though. Unless you just can’t stop yourself.” I grinned.

We chatted a while longer, and then I mentioned my mom was coming at Easter. Beckett perked right up. “Jill! Oh, I can’t wait to see her. Please tell me she has a new man.”

“Of course she has a new man. This is my mother we’re talking about.” I checked my watch then stood. “I better go.”

“Me too. Maybe we could get together for something soon, but just know that if I’m up past my bedtime I might cry.”

“Ok, I’ll call you. And I will see you at your party in a week, I guess.”

“Right. It’s on St. Patrick’s Day, and trust me, I’m going to need the luck of the Irish to pull all this off in time.”

“St. Patrick’s Day? Already?” It seemed like we’d just had Valentine’s Day. “I can’t believe it’s the middle of March.” I pulled out my new phone and glanced at the lock screen.
Yep
. It was March. “I can’t figure out this new phone, and I don’t have the calendar set up yet. I just need to sit down and take some time with it. I totally forgot Laird’s birthday last week. He’s seven now. I’m the worst mommy ever.”

“He’s a dog, Catherine. I’m sure he didn’t notice. But get your calendar up and running and put in a reminder for the party. You can
not
miss it. And straighten this all out with your man. I like you two together. Plus, you give the rest of us hope.” He smiled knowingly.

“I’ll figure it out, I promise. And I’ll be there.” I gave him a kiss on the cheek.

He hugged me tightly. “Stay safe, Cat.”

“I will.”

* * *

I
asked Anthony and Asa to take me to the library next. I’d deal with William and Beckett’s party later. Right now I needed to figure out the special effects for the cork-popping shot for the WML Champagne campaign. I had a few reference books at my condo, but I didn’t know if they covered what I wanted, plus I really didn’t feel like going back there, even with security. Rather than spending hours searching online, I decided to do the old-school thing and go to the library.

It was only three-thirty and already traffic was at a standstill. The SUV crawled along, and I pulled out my phone to pass the time. I had an email from my mom confirming Easter, and I replied that we were still on and that Beckett wanted to hear all about...what was the new boyfriend’s name? I couldn’t remember. I typed,
Beckett wants to hear all about the new man,
and hit send. I also had two texts. One was from my dad. I’d loved knock-knock jokes when I was a kid, and we had a tradition of texting each other the worst ones we could find.